Anxious and overwhelmed by the relentless news cycle this past winter, I turned to doomscrolling for escape. In a failed attempt to reset my algorithm, I stumbled across Pitti Uomo. But what caught my eye wasn’t the usual parade of men in tailored suits and cigars — it was the women. Their presence felt like more than just fashion. It was intention, disruption, and story. From that moment on, I couldn’t wait to see what they’d bring to Pitti Uomo 108 this summer.
In the heat-soaked and rain-soaked streets of Florence, something quietly radical was happening. From June 17 to 20, amid the sea of perfectly pressed lapels, leather loafers, and cigar-toting dandies, Pitti Uomo 108 unfolded. The biannual menswear trade show, long hailed as a temple of tailoring (and testosterone), played an unexpected host to a subtle takeover. Women came, saw, and rewrote the dress code.
These women weren’t just visiting Pitti. They were shaping it.
Gone are the days when the event’s style orbit revolved solely around sharp Italian suiting and the theatrical display of old-school masculinity. This year, the most compelling looks weren’t just about fit and fabric; they were about fluidity. In a space built on male legacy, women were reframing what menswear could mean and, more importantly, who it could belong to.
Creative directors and stylists arrived in tailored summer suits — cool linen and crisp cotton, tonal and neutral palettes. Their looks featured structured shoulders, softened, subtle feminine flair. Loafers slipped over bare ankles. Hair, slicked back. Cigarette trousers whispered authority.
But there was a softness, too. Flowy pastel dresses with blazers slung effortlessly over the shoulder. White eyelet midis paired with Panama hats, and Bermuda shorts were balanced by lace-trimmed tops. Some leaned completely into masculine codes. Others danced between aesthetics. A few embraced a hyperfeminine edge, from the satin bows in their hats down to the heels. Each look was deliberate. And therein lies the quiet power.
Pitti Uomo has always been about presentation — the costume of confidence, the art of showing up, seen. But this year, the women at Pitti — stylists, editors, indie brand founders, artists, content creators, and die-hard fashion lovers — weren’t just performing style. They were performing purpose. Their presence wasn’t only visual; it was narrative-shifting.
Social media is flooded with attendees sharing their #OOTDs (Outfits of the Day) as forms of self-expression. But for some, their looks ran deeper. They styled themselves in armor, protest, and joy. One woman wore a sharply tailored double-breasted suit to claim space in rooms where she once felt the need to shrink. Another paired her grandmother’s pearl earrings with her boyfriend’s oversized blazer. It was a quiet, stylish middle finger to the patriarchy. These weren’t just outfits. They were statements.
In many ways, this fashion moment couldn’t have come at a better or, honestly, a more urgent time. With civil rights eroding, inclusive efforts under attack, and bodily autonomy restricted across the United States and beyond, even the act of getting dressed has taken on new meaning. What we wear is no longer apolitical (if it ever was). Especially for women and marginalized folks, getting dressed becomes an act of resistance, an assertion of identity, and a reclamation of power.
Historically, Pitti Uomo has centered on an elite, European masculinity rooted in tradition, bespoke tailoring, heritage brands, and sartorial hierarchy. It’s been a stage for men fluent in sprezzatura, men who know their Neapolitan cut from their Milanese cut. Yet, women showed up not to blend in but to bend the aesthetic. They didn’t come to mimic men. They came to mutate menswear into something uniquely of their own.
This isn’t new, of course. Women have long borrowed from menswear. Think Katharine Hepburn in The Philadelphia Story wearing her trousers—dare I say—better than Cary Grant. There’s also Diane Keaton’s Annie Hall waistcoats and Grace Jones in a sharply tailored power suit complete with shoulder pads. But what’s happening now at places like Pitti is less about borrowing and more about reclaiming. It’s not about dressing like a dude. It’s about breaking down the idea that certain garments ever belonged to one gender.
The most iconic street style moments at Pitti proved that fluidity it more than a trend. It’s a cultural shift that rejects the rigid binaries fashion has historically depended on. It invites play, contradiction, and edge. Women wore ties as belts, blazers as dresses, and oxfords with bare legs. They smoked cigars, carried oversized totes, or opted for no bag at all. They weren’t afraid to be contradictory, blending soft with hard, classic with unexpected.
The result? A kind of sartorial remix: old codes rewritten through a new lens. This shift isn’t just about aesthetics, though. It’s about access and authorship. Independent creatives — particularly women of color, LGBTQ+ individuals, and younger Gen Z stylists — are bringing fresh perspectives to spaces that once excluded them. They’re showing up and showing out at legacy events like Pitti. They’re challenging who gets to shape style narratives. And most importantly, they’re doing it without asking for permission.
Pitti is an experience both exhilarating and exhausting. Some come to party and network. Others just want an excuse to dress up. But even that can feel heavy. You’re not just wearing clothes; you’re representing something bigger: yourself, your community, your politics. Even if your only goal was to wear that new piece you justified as an “investment,” the act still carries weight. For many, every outfit is carefully curated, right down to the choice of vintage cufflinks. It’s fashion, yes, but it’s also a message. And the message is landing.
Street style photographers took notice. They focused their lenses on women not as muses or accessories to men’s fashion, but as main characters. Social videos captured them stomping through Florence’s cobblestone streets in oversized tailoring and unapologetic confidence.
This fashion moment — part rebellion, part celebration, and part creativity — feels like a blueprint for where culture is headed. It’s moving away from binaries, away from rules, and straight into the closet for whatever feels right. If that means pairing a silk slip dress with a cigar, using a tie for a belt, and wearing double monk straps — so be it.
At Pitti Uomo, the future of menswear looks more fluid, thanks, in no small part, to the women rewriting the rules.
[Writer’s note: the men didn’t look bad either]
Photo credit: AKAstudio-collective
Byline: Tenásha Ebrahimkhel